Fly Me To The Moon
by rhythm junkie
Summary: Stiles had wings. Ink blue wings that stretched up from his ankles and arched a foot above his head, feathered and heavy-looking. Derek wanted to touch. TeenWolf kinkme fill. Warnings for normal canon-level violence and possible dub/con in later parts. I OWN NOTHING.


**This is being written for a kink prompt over on teen wolf kinkme on LJ. The prompt is:**

_Somehow, through a magical whammy or shape-shifting or whatever, Stiles grows a pair of wings. Big powerful wings that are just the right balance between fluffy & delightful and sleekly dangerous. They're a bitch to grow in (feathers are so itchy!) and super hard to hide, but as soon as Stiles realizes he can fly, it's all worth it._  
_Derek is fascinated by the changes and can't stop touching the new limbs, especially when he realizes just how sensitive Stiles' wings are._  
_Bonus points if Stiles rides Derek's cock, with his wings surrounding the two of them.  
Double bonus points if Derek knots Stiles and then contentedly preening his wings while they're tied together.  
Triple bonus points if this is a new relationship that got its push from a mild heat/new pheromones Stiles began producing when these changes started!_

**I won't be sticking very closely to the prompt because, well, Muse. I don't envision this being a long fic either.**

**For Fr333bird.  
**

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Stiles had wings. Ink blue wings that stretched up from his ankles and arched a foot above his head, feathered and heavy-looking. Derek wanted to _touch_. He bit down on that urge, vicious and abrupt, as he approached the panicked boy surrounded by an equally panicked Scott and Allison.

"What happened?"

Stiles, already hunched, cringed down at his voice, his wings fluffing up in fright. Derek dug his fingers into his thighs and was proven correct in his action when Stiles wings surged away from Scott's hand trying to soothe them down. Scott's face dropped into his kicked puppy look and Derek suppressed the urge to roll his eyes.

"Well?"

"There was a witch," Allison said, her voice faraway but her eyes on Stiles new appendages. "There was a spell and I think some ricochet and then she was gone and Stiles was…" She trailed off because Derek could see with his own eyes what Stiles was.

Scott was _still_ trying to stroke the wings, despite Stiles clear displeasure so Derek strode over and slapped Scott's hand away. Immediately, Scott snarled at him, teeth snapping. Stiles cringed further.

"Stop." Derek's Alpha voice had Scott scrambling to obey and Derek forced himself not to smirk – he might not be Scott's Alpha but he still commanded respect whether the wolf wanted to give it or not. Sighing, he turned to Stiles who hadn't said anything.

"Stiles?"

The boy flinched, eyes down, and his wings fluttered worriedly around his arms. His shoulders were bunched so hard that some of the feathers brushed his ears. Derek frowned and straightened up.

"I'm taking him to Deaton. You two can go home." At Scott's obvious attempt to intervene, Derek snapped, "Cover with his Dad. Go."

**0o0o0o**

Derek sat in the waiting room at the clinic, at Deaton's request, in apprehensive silence. The entire journey there, Stiles hadn't said a word. It was so unlike the Stiles he knew that Derek was starting to feel real anxiety. What if the spell caused something else? What if it changed something fundamental – moreso that just adding two extra, feathery limbs? Stiles had been through so much recently, and he was so young. Derek ground his teeth, clenching his fists to force away his unease. He should have been there. Stiles shouldn't have been anywhere near that warehouse…

"Derek?"

Derek looked up too quickly to wipe his furious expression and the boy's whole body flinched back, wings whipping up to encase him as he stumbled over his own feet and into the wall. Derek was already up and half way across the room when Deaton stepped into the room.

"Don't" he said and Derek stopped short. He watched as Deaton approached Stiles, still shielded by his wings.

"Stiles, it's okay."

Slowly, Stiles wings came down and Deaton smiled in a reassuring manner, reaching out to touch Stiles arm. Derek noted that Deaton was very deliberately not touching the wings.

"Why don't you sit here whilst I speak to Derek?" Deaton's voice was soothing as he led Stiles to the chair Derek had just vacated. Stiles had to rustle his wings around his sides to fit but he managed it. Deaton smiled again at him before turning to Derek. Derek watched as his face dropped into something much more serious. Not good.

Deaton led him into the back of the clinic and they both stood for a moment, watching Stiles through the open door as he sat staring at his hands, wings shifting in restless motion around him. Deaton sighed and Derek braced himself.

"I might be able to do something, but it will take time," Deaton said, no preamble. "He'll need to be kept out of sight. No one can know about this, Derek."

Derek nodded, suppressing the urge to snarl just a little. Derek was a lot of things, but he wasn't stupid. He knew what would happen if anyone got an eyeful of Stiles in his current condition – the exact same thing that would happen if anyone found out Derek was a werewolf.

"Excuses will need to be made with the Sheriff," Deaton continued, "I may be able to help with that. He'll have to stay somewhere there is…space."

"Space?"

"Wings dislike being confined. They _can_ be but Stiles needs to know he can stretch them out. His house will not be suitable, and that's without the added complication of it being in a populated area and also the Sheriff living there."

"He can stay with me," Derek replied without thinking. He had been rebuilding the house for a while now and over two thirds of it was now fully-functional. The back right hand corner was the only part left to refurbish. Deaton was nodding like he had hoped Derek would say that.

"What's wrong with him? Apart from the obvious."

Deaton looked out at Stiles, who hadn't moved and was still staring at his hands unseeingly, for a long minute then tipped his head back briefly, eyes closed. Derek thought he looked tired.

"He was hit with a very powerful curse," Deaton began slowly, "but not one that I can identify off-hand. I'll need to…consult. Anyway, his body has gone through some traumatic changes in a very swift period and his brain is fighting with who he is and his new…instincts."

"Instincts?" Derek asked, confused.

"His brain is saturated with the wings and the wings have…survival instincts that are common in birds. He's quiet because he's trying not to draw the attention of a deadlier predator."

"Oh." Derek didn't know what to say about that. He glanced back at Stiles, reading the line of tension that was woven through the boy's muscles and sympathy welled heavy in his bones. He knew that feeling.

"Will he…?"

"He should." Deaton confirmed and Derek let out a deep, relieved breath. "He needs a few days to sleep and…adjust. Then he should be mostly back to himself. Except for…"

"Wings." Derek finished the sentence, staring at the offending objects. As if they knew, the wings curled protectively over Stiles head.

**0o0o0o**

Stiles was silent in the back seat of the Camaro, flat on his stomach with his face jammed into the seat. It had been a headache getting him and his wings inside the car, and Stiles looked in no way comfortable once he was situated. Derek kept glancing at him in the mirror, the way his shoulders were tight and the way his wings were radiating panic.

"Hey Stiles, it's okay," Derek tried but he wasn't any good at words and his voice was all wrong. It came out more growly than he intended, like it was meant to be a command rather than a reassurance. Stiles whole body cowered and Derek wanted to bite his own tongue off. Instead, he reached out without thinking, like he would with his pack, and touched Stiles. The second his fingertips brush the boy's wings, there was an explosion of movement and then Derek was trying to hold Stiles down with one hand before giving up and just yanking the car off the road.

"Stiles! Stiles! STILES." Eventually his Alpha voice got through and Stiles just collapsed in on himself, wings still shivering against the roof of the Camaro like they were looking for an escape. A small ink-blue feather floated past Derek's nose.

"Just…" Derek trailed off because he didn't have any way to finish that sentence. He looked at the boy he relied on for intel and for getting through Scott's stupid head, the boy that he could admit to himself he probably relied on too heavily, and felt an awful clench in his gut at the sheer terror saturating the air. Stiles hadn't been afraid of him for months, and the taste of it now was harsh on Derek's tongue.

He pulled back on to the road, eyes careful on Stiles silent form. For the first time in a long time, Derek wished he was better at this part. It was…uncomfortable to have Stiles there with him, so vulnerable. Stiles never knew but Derek was used to be the vulnerable one in their interactions. Just because he hid it, just because Stiles hadn't picked up on it, didn't make it any less true.

"I'm going to take you back to the house," Derek said, eyes half on Stiles, half on the road, "and you can rest whilst we figure out how to fix this."

Stiles remained quiet and still, the only indication that he was even awake coming from the harsh panting that grated on Derek's ears.

"It won't be like this for long," Derek tried, unable now he'd started to leave well enough alone. "I know it feels terrifying now but once you've settled you'll be back to being you and we'll _fix_ this."

Derek felt stupid talking out loud. Stiles silence was like a vacuum and Derek's own voice sounded scratchy, like it was out of use. It was a stupid thought because Derek spoke to his beta's pretty much every day. He also spoke to himself, a constant background hum of words and music and half-remembered conversations, but that was only ever in the privacy of his own mind. Unlike Stiles, he'd learned that it was better to keep your thoughts to yourself lest you murder everyone you love. Derek's wave of envy for Stiles usual babbling self was huge and all-encompassing, but he shut it down. There were more important things at hand.

**0o0o0o**

It was Derek's fault in the end, too busy paying attention to the way Stiles whole body quivered and turned half-away from Derek as he helped the boy out of the car to notice his beta's. By the time he did, Isaac was already past him, snarling at Stiles, fangs and claws out.

Boyd, half turned himself, tackled Erica and pinned her to the floor, an act Derek had no time to be grateful for as he shot after Isaac and a petrified Stiles. Derek panicked as Stiles aimed for the treeline. There was no way his wings would allow for the manoeuvrability needed to get through the densely-packed trees.

Stiles whole body seemed to _gather _right under Derek's eyes, and the boy launched himself at the same time Isaac did. Stiles was up, the force of the displaced air from his wings whipping Derek's breath out of his chest and Derek managed to drag his eyes away from the sight long enough to grab Isaac around the thighs, bearing him to the ground. As they fell, Derek saw Isaac's claws connect, raking bloodily down the bottom foot of Stiles left wing. Stiles squawked, a high unnatural sound for a human throat, and forced his body through the canopy of leaves. Over Isaac's growls and his own wracking breaths, Derek could hear the sound of blood drops hitting the grass as Stiles disappeared from view, wings and all.

The whole world seemed to freeze for a long moment, like the night had been muzzled, before Derek was up, dragging a snarling, slavering Isaac to his feet and throwing him until he landed hard next to Boyd and Erica.

"Take him to Scott's," Derek snapped at Boyd, "Under no circumstances have any of you to come back here until I call you, do you understand?" Boyd gave one tight nod, his own fangs seeming to glow in the moonlight, and hauled both werewolves away, an arm around Erica's waist and a hand clamped tight on Isaac's upper arm.

Derek stayed where he was long after the snarling was swallowed by the dark, until he was without doubt that the threat had passed. Then he took a few long minutes to get himself under control before twitching his nose and following the scent of blood.

Stiles colouring made it harder than it should have to find the boy, even with the smell of blood in his nose. Derek tracked with quick, precise movements, swift through wet leaves and dead twigs, head tilted up to the wind. He shivered to a halt beneath a tree and it was only with his enhanced eyesight that he spotted the vibration of wind through feathers.

Derek was half-way up the tree before he could think, all attempts at subterfuge forgotten. Branches snapped across his shoulders as he barrelled towards Stiles who, alerted to the danger, made an unholy screech that set Derek's teeth on edge and launched himself out of the tree.

Derek knew he couldn't allow Stiles to flee, not in his state and not with the panic that would be coursing his brain, so he threw himself at the wings as they swooped past, colliding heavily with Stiles slight body. It took all of Derek's preternatural strength to grip on as Stiles tried to shake him off, screaming high and low in his throat at the same time, calling for help, Derek thought, terror making him forget there was nothing else like him out there.

Derek gritted his teeth against it and used his forearms to lever Stiles wings closed, ignoring branches and bark as it tore at his hair and scraped at his skin. He needed to take Stiles down – if the boy got the taste of open air there was no telling where he'd end up and Derek knew he'd never catch him. Derek forced his legs up and around the bottom of Stiles wings, pulling them in and taking away all of Stiles ability to stay airborne.

They listed sharply to the right then to the left as Stiles struggled and screamed, Derek wrapped around him, and then they plunged hard towards the ground. Derek twisted so that he'd take the brunt, clenching his teeth and tightening his grip to make sure the shock of impact didn't force him to let go of the body in his hold.

Instead of loosening, Derek's clutch tightened when his back slammed into the ground, until Stiles wings bent under the strain and Stiles screamed, a much more human sound. Derek relaxed his arms immediately, but too much, and rolled until Stiles was beneath him, the top arch of Stiles wings hot and luscious against the skin of Derek's face.

Stiles was all animal, clawing and fighting with a force that was almost shocking, so Derek laid himself tighter on the struggling body, at a loss for what to do until the wolf responded. It was a primal response, but Stiles was all primal in that moment so Derek didn't even try to curb the urge that had him forcing his face into the space between Stiles wing and shoulder and licking the boy's face in long, forceful strokes.

So slow that it took Derek a while to notice, the tension in Stiles leeched out until his body was limp and pliant beneath Derek's. When Derek was sure Stiles knew he was the weaker, Derek untangled them and hauled him up, keeping one firm hand on the boy at all times. Stiles trembled under his touch all the way to the house, but he didn't fight at all, not even when Derek crowded in behind him and forced him through the doorway.

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**Thanks for reading**


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